Murphy's Law
by Commander Scarecrow
Summary: Ghost Hunters. 1st/2nd season era. She was actually hired by an accident, and TAPS has no idea what to make of her. But they might as well give her a shot, right?
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** Don't own. Please don't sue. But Kenny is mine.

**Rating:** T (mainly for language)

**Pairing:** Undecided

**-1- Earlier -1-**

Donna LaCroix examines the application in her hand for a long, hesitant moment. Then, arranging her expression into careful neutrality, she looks up and tries not to examine the girl sitting patiently across from her. Humming. And staring at the ceiling with wide, fascinated eyes, as if the swirls of white paint are the most interesting things she has ever seen.

"So. . ." Donna clears her throat. Shuffles some papers for something to do, and finally sets down the application filled out in. . .yellow highlighter. "Ms. Reznov?" She tries aiming for a friendly voice. "Kendall?"

The girl in question blinks at the ceiling before lowering her gaze. She smiles at Donna, and the motion seems to announce the fact that her nose is rather crooked. "That's me. How are you today?"

"Um. . .fine. Thank you. How are you?"

Kendall nods happily. Strands of copper hair streaked a peculiar shade of cerulean blue swing into her face. "Great! I'm doing great."

Well. Donna hates to admit it to herself, but the girl's cheerful aura seems to be rather contagious. Weird, but contagious. She smiles back. "I'm glad to hear it. Now, as I'm sure you know, we're hiring. But we're looking for someone with very specific qualifications to add to our team. Do you have any experience with the paranormal?"

"Ghostbusters is my favorite movie," Kendall beams, with another nod.

Donna blinks. Her smile falters. "Okay. Um. . ." What the hell? "That's good to know. Have you ever handled the sort of equipment we work with? Or are you good with electronics?"

"My older brother builds computers. He would never let me help, because he always thought I would break something. . .but I've watched him mess around with wires and processing units for years." Kendall says. She folds her hands in her lap, pauses, rests them on her knees, instead, before finally deciding to hang on to the edge of the table. Her nails are painted black with delicate designs of small white spiders.

Steve would get a kick out of those, Donna can't help thinking. She grins. Kendall's answering grin is bright and rather oblivious.

"So, that's something, then." Donna finally nods. "You've grown up around computers?"

"Pretty much."

"We can always use more help in the tech department. . ." Donna trails off. She squints down at the application again, but can hardly decipher more than a name, a phone number, and something about. . .something, at the end. Scribbled inside one of the margins. Hopefully it isn't too important.

"Have you ever done any first hand investigating on you own?"

"Kind of. No, wait! I have." Kendall shakes her head. "My friend's mom owned this Inn somewhere upstate. When I was a kid, I once spent the whole summer there with my recorder and my video camera, because I guess it was supposed to be haunted. Well. It was." Her expression straightens seriously. "I captured some pretty incredible things on film. Voices, shadows. . . You know. It sort of catapulted my interest in the field."

Donna studies the girl in surprise. She wasn't expecting such an honest answer. Maybe her first impression of this possible candidate was wrong? "Wow. That's amazing. We'd love to see some of your evidence, if you wouldn't mind sharing. This Inn might be a place Jason and Grant would want to investigate themselves."

Kendall shrugs. "Hey. I'd love to, but the Inn burned down after that summer. All of my stuff was left inside and destroyed.

. . .huh. "Oh." Donna frowns, rather taken aback. "How terrible. I'm. . . I'm sorry to hear that."

"Yeah. It sucked." Kendall sighs. "That was a lousy year."

Right. Moving on, before this gets any more uncomfortable. . .

"So, why do you want to join TAPS, Kendall?" It's a safe question, Donna believes. A question that won't lead to any other. . .odd moments. Hopefully?

There's a lengthy pause, and then the girl suddenly bursts into laughter. Much to Donna's absolute bewilderment. And alarm. Kendall shakes her head again, waving her hands in front of her.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry, I didn't mean that. I'm okay." She takes a long, deep breath, her mouth threatening to split into another grin. "I want to join Taps because-" She clutches at her stomach, and succumbs to a less maniac fit of giggles.

Maybe Donna's first impression of this possible candidate was perfectly correct.

Kendall claps a hand over her mouth. "I'm sorry, I'm really sorry." She repeats, voice muffled between her fingers. "I want to join TAPS because I just. . .Well. I want to know." She lowers her gaze, all traces of amusement leeched from her face. Her spider nails pluck at the table edge almost morosely.

Donna doesn't want to ask. But to present an air of professional courtesy, she does. This interview is definitely over. "You want to know what?"

"What's out there, after. . .this." The girl makes a vague motion in the air. She's staring off fixedly at a point beyond Donna's shoulder, brows furrowed. "I just need to know."

Donna files the application into her folder and stands up. "Well, we're all here for just that reason." She concludes, somewhat lamely. "It was. . .pleasant, meeting you, Kendall. Have a nice day."

The girl stands as well. They shake hands, and that's that. Kendall leaves. Donna immediately places the folder on her desk after the redhead is gone, making a mental note to laugh about this with Jason and Grant later.


	2. Chapter 2

**-2- LATER -2-**

There is absolutely nothing to laugh about. Grant Wilson runs a hand over his eyes and heaves a long, exhausted sigh. The application stack in front of him, leaning precariously to one side and on the verge of sliding off his desk, is shrinking. Steadily. Hour by hour. He's gone through dozens upon dozens of them and there has been little, to no luck whatsoever. None.

From the desk across from him, Jason Hawes seems to be having similar issues. He pours over one page, frowns, then snorts under his breath before turning it over and adding it to a third stack of papers shared between them. All of the rejected forms. There must be close to a hundred.

He opens his mouth, about to ask if they should call it quits for the night, when he comes across a form that nearly blinds him.

"Ah-! What the hell?"

Jason squints at him from over the top of the stacks. "What's wrong, G?"

Perplexed, Grant turns the paper around and blasts his friend with the full force of the startling horror. Someone had. . .for some reason, filled out an application with a yellow highlighter.

"What is this, Jay?" He asks, a grin twitching at the corners of his mouth. "Is this really what I think it is?"

Jason blinks. "I think it looks like a highlighter."

They stare at one another. And then they dissolve into laughter.

"Man. Can you believe this? I can't read any of it." Grant chuckles. "Some people. . ."

"Let me see it. Maybe we can at least get a name or a number off of it." Jason extends his hand and, obligingly, Grant drops the affront into the other man's open palm. He doesn't want anything to do with it. Not this late, and definitely not when his patience is near nonexistent.

"Be my guest."

Minutes tick past. Periodically, Grant glances up and sees Jason honestly attempting to read the yellow application. His eyes are narrowed, and his lips are pressed into a thin, considering line.

"Anything?" Grant wonders.

"Yeah. . ." Jason replies, nodding slowly. "Hmm. This is pretty decent, once you move past the point of terrible pain it causes to look at. And. . ." He turns the page sideways and squints. "It says 'Barry Fitzgerald' is her reference. 'Give him a call if you want to know more about my qualifications,'" Jason reads out.

Grant frowns and rubs the back of his neck. The muscles are aching and incredibly, annoyingly stiff beneath his fingers. Damn. He's going to wake up sore tomorrow. If it isn't already tomorrow. His expression openly displays his discomfort, as well as his surprise.

"Barry, our friend Barry? Over in Ireland?" He asks. "Really?"

"Seems like it, yeah."

"Wow. What a weird coincidence."

They sit in silence. Grant looks at the telephone next to the lamp, feeling almost hopeful. This is the best possible candidate they've come across in the entire night. What time is it in Ireland right now, anyway?

Jason seems to be thinking along those exact same lines. He reaches for the receiver, punches in some numbers, and waits. Grant leans back in his chair and folds his arms over his chest with a yawn. Waiting.

"Hello? Barry?" Jason says into the mouthpiece. "Hey. It's Jason Hawes from TAPS. Yeah, man. I'm doing good, thanks. Yourself? Good, good. Hey, I'm calling because Grant and I are trying to hire a new member for the team, and we came across this one application that put you as a reference. . ." He glances briefly at the highlighter marks on the form.

Grant considers it amazing that his friend can decipher anything from the smears.

"Uh-huh. Right." Jason nods. "The girl's name is. . .something Reznov. It's a little hard to, uh, read her writing."

Grant snickers behind his hand and Jason throws him a look, but a slight grin curves his expression, nevertheless.

"Kendall? Um, yeah. Kendall Reznov. That sounds right." But Jason shrugs at Grant and shakes his head, mouthing _'I have no idea if that's right.' _And this starts Grant laughing again as he stretches his legs out in front of him, crossed at the ankles underneath the desk.

For the next few minutes, Jason only listens while, on the other end, Grant can clearly hear the Irish accent of their friend describing something in a large amount of detail. Jason looks impressed. It takes quite a bit to impress the likes of Jason Hawes, so Grant knows that they must be on to something. _Finally._

"Wow, okay. Thanks a lot, Barry." He eventually says. "No, of course. Grant and I just have to go over a few more things, but if we hire her we'll definitely let you know. Talk to you later." Then he hangs up, and Grant stares at him expectantly.

"What's the verdict, man?"

So. For the next twenty minutes, Jason and Grant deliberate over this yellow highlighter application. Why not? She has experience. She has a glowing reference. She can handle electronics. They can at least give her a shot.

"Alright. I guess it's settled, then." Jason says firmly. "We'll give this Kendall Reznov a call tomorrow and let her know she has the job. Donna already had an interview with her, right?"

Grant nods. He's just thrilled to finally be going home. "Yeah, yeah. I found that folder next to all of the other possibilities Donna met with on her desk." He waves a vague hand through the air, yawning, then rubs at his eyes. "Let's get out of here, Jay. I'm beat."

"Seconded." Jason agrees as he stands up. "The guys will be happy to know we've got someone."

"Not as happy as I am that this is actually over." Grant switches of the lights and locks their office door behind them. Jason chuckles. They walk out to their respective cars, say goodnight, and drive home.


	3. Chapter 3

**-3- The Following Morning -3-**

It's early. Way too damn early. He doesn't get up until at least noon on Saturdays, and even that's _only_ if he has to wake up at all. Brian Harnois stumbles in through the front door and his foot catches on the edge of the rug, nearly tripping him up as the door swings shut and knocks him into the room.

"For the love of. . ." He shakes his head, a rush of swears on the tip of his tongue. The scalding hot coffee in his mug sloshes dangerously close to the brim but, gratefully, does not spill on his shirt or the carpet. Yeah. That would have _definitely_ been the best way to get back on Jay's and Grant's good sides again. By burning a hole straight through their floor.

"Hey! Who the hell is making all that racket?" From around the hallway corner, Steve Gonsalves sticks his head out with a frown. His eyes land on Brian and his expression falls flat. The war of impassivity fighting against an uncontrollable desire to laugh very obvious in his face.

It does not improve Brian's mood whatsoever. "Oh, shut up. Asshole." Brian scowls. He fixes the lid on his coffee mug and trudges over to the second man. "Mornings aren't good for me."

Steve raises an eyebrow at the cowlicks sticking up all over Brian's head. ". . .yeah. I can see that. Is _any_ time good for you? Or is this just a special occasion?"

"Screw you."

"Please don't."

"Dude. I didn't mean literally."

"Fine. Then _say_ what you_ mean_ next time, Brian. It'll save you the confusion and the embarrassment."

"Well, shit. I figured you weren't going to take it _personally!"_

"Hey, just, shut up. Okay? It's too early for this."

"I know!"

The two walk down the hallway together, bickering, as usual, and wander into a living type area. There is a couch, a television, a small table, and a small fridge. At the table, Donna has a laptop set up with some weird music playing softly from the speakers. Dave Tango is seated on the couch, a bowl of cereal balanced on his knees as he channel surfs with wide, blank eyes.

In an effort to change the subject, Tango swallows down a mouthful of Captain Crunch and points a spoon at the pair, over the back of the couch. "Hey. Did you guys hear? We got a new member joining us today. Grant just called her an hour ago."

"Really?" Steve asks, in the same instance Brian grumbles, "About damn time they found someone!"

The former rolls his eyes. Brian ignores him and joins Tango on the sofa, taking a small sip from his coffee. The shorter man moves over automatically to make room. He's decided on some network cartoons that no one appears to mind. Brian _could_ tease him mercilessly about it. . .

But he won't. Because he watches those same cartoons at his place. And Steve knows it.

"So, who is it?" Steve wonders from the fridge. "Do we have a name yet?" Since Captain Crunch seems to be the only cereal on hand, he pours himself a bowl before joining the two at the couch. He sits down on the edge of the arm, on Tango's right side. Farthest away from Brian.

That's just fine with Brian, by the way. What the hell is Steve's problem today? Ever since he's been back at TAPS, things have been. . .weird. Between them. And not a good weird. It's frustrating. But Brian isn't going to apologize because he hasn't done anything wrong. Not yet, at least. He plans it keep it like that.

"I don't know who it is." Tango shrugs. "A girl, I think. She should be here soon, though."

"Another girl? Great!" Donna gives a celebratory cheer. "It's about time."

"What, you don't like working with a bunch of guys? I thought that's what you loved most about this job." Steve jokes.

Donna rolls her eyes, unable to keep from grinning. Both Brian and Tango have to laugh. Their laughter quickly turns into obnoxious howls, though, when Donna counters back with, "No, Steve. I'm pretty sure that's what _you_ love most about this job." And Steve flushes crimson around his collar.

"Whoa. Dude." Brian snorts. "You pretty much just told me you didn't swing that way in the hall. There's no reason to be ashamed of you sexual orientation. . ."

"Brian, even if I was gay -which I'm not," Steve quickly adds, scowling as he blushes, "I wouldn't swing _your_ way. Okay?"

Tango gives a dramatic wince. "Ouch." Then he giggles. Yes. Dave Tango does, in fact, giggle. But if you try and confront him about it, good luck.

"Wow. That was a bit harsh." Donna agrees teasingly.

Brian, meanwhile, pretends that the comment doesn't sting as much as it does. What the hell? Wait a minute. . . It shouldn't sting at all! He should be _relieved_, if anything. Maybe he hasn't had enough coffee, yet. Compounded by everything else he's been dealing with from Steve lately, of course the remark would target a sore spot.

"Why are you always on my case, man?" He demands. "Ever since I got back you've been jumping down my throat about every little thing. What is it, huh? Why can't you just tell it to me straight?"

Tango shifts awkwardly between them. Probably sensing the sudden tenseness in the atmosphere. He gets up with his bowl and goes to check on what Donna is doing, while Brian, hardly noticing this, stares with hard eyes at someone who. . .once upon a time, used to be his best friend.

Steve stares back unblinkingly. He pulls his spoon out of his mouth and drops it down into his own cereal bowl. "Because, Brian." He says simply, bluntly. "You were a liar. You wrecked this team, and we were forced to pick up the pieces you left behind. Forgive me if I'm finding it a little difficult to trust you again. It's only been two months."

And with that, he slides off the couch and turns away.

From Donna and Tango's standpoint, this is their easy-to-understand translation of Steve's admittance: "Dude. Brian, you lied to _me_. You were _my_ closest friend on this team and practically ruined _everything. . ._for _me_. How am I supposed to trust you again after that shit you pulled? Back off and give me some space for awhile."

Brian blinks after his once-friend, frowning, brows heavily furrowed. His coffee is probably cold by now. "Hey- I'm trying as best as I can." He says. "Change doesn't happen overnight, but I'm still trying."

Steve's back is to him and he doesn't turn around. "Yeah. I get that." His voice is low, brittle. "Can we drop it?"

Just then, Jason and Grant walk in, and even the room seems to breathe a visible sigh of relief at the interruption. Brian just settles back on the couch and fumes.

"Hey, guys!" Tango chirps. Donna waves and closes her laptop.

"Hey." Grant waves back. "Everyone almost ready?"

"Yeah. Kendall should be here any moment." Jason nods.

"The new chick? Her name is Kendall?" Steve clarifies, sounding curious. He leans back against the counter and folds his heavily tattooed arms over his t-shirt. Donna, meanwhile, blinks in surprise. She shakes her head as a slow frown spreads across her face.

"Wait. . .you don't mean Kendall _Reznov,_ do you?" She asks.

And as everyone looks around at each other, somewhat puzzled, from somewhere, a front door chimes open. . .


	4. Chapter 4

**-4- Just a Few Minutes Later -4-**

This is so cool! Really- Kendall can still hardly believe that she got a call from _Grant Wilson himself_ this morning! It's too awesome to think about. She's afraid she's going to wake up at any moment, considering. . .

Considering how great her interview went yesterday, actually, she shouldn't be surprised at all!

"Hello?" She calls, stepping inside the small building. The front door chimes closed behind her. "Anyone home?"

There are footsteps echoing down the hallway. Jason Hawes and Grant Wilson, followed close behind by the rest of their team, and Kendall can't help grinning at the sight. Actually, she laughs. She does that, sometimes. When the moment is awkward or uncomfortable, she tends to laugh it off. And she is feeling very awkward.

"Hi, Kendall." Grant smiles. "Glad to have you with us." He offers out a hand, as does Jason, and she shakes both at the same time.

Chuckles and grins ripple through the group. So. . .that's a good first impression, right?

"I'm glad, too. Thanks for the hire!" She beams.

Next, introductions are made, though they aren't really necessary. She already knows who _they_ are, but it was polite enough to have them say a thing or two. Steve is friendly and his eyes are bright. Donna is still welcoming, as she was yesterday, while Tango is cute, and Brian is a bit of a dork. But a nice dork. Overall, Kendall likes everyone.

"Okay. The vans are all packed." Jason brings his hands together in front of him. "We're heading out to Des Moines, Iowa, and we're a bit behind schedule. So, everyone, let's head outside. Kendall, you can ride with us or Brian and Steve. They have space in their car, too." He looks to said mentioned men with a stern expression.

"You'll behave, right? And bring her up to speed on the case if she goes with you?"

"Of course." Steve nods, while Brian steps up and says, "Yeah. No problem." They both sound as if the first part of that question was the stupidest thing to ask. And it shows briefly in their faces when Jason returns his attention to the rest of the gang.

Kendall notices this. Brian catches her amused gaze and a hint of that dorky, endearing grin curls half of his mouth up as he rolls his eyes. She fights back a smile and his grin widens.

Eventually, they all file out the door. Kendall waits for mostly everyone to go first, before she ends up walking out next to Steve, with Brian trailing their shadows.

"You'll be riding with us, then?" He wonders, and fixes the brim up his TAPS baseball hat.

"Sure." She shrugs. "If you don't mind." Because she would probably prefer their company to Jason's and Grant's. At the moment. No offense. And Steve seems pleased with her answer. He smiles, she smiles, and Brian says, "Dude. _I_ get control over the radio this time, okay? We're not listening to any of your lame-ass R&B all the way to Iowa."

"Up top." Kendall laughs. "This motion is seconded."

Brian chuckles and slaps her hand in a high-five. Steve blows out a dramatic breath and shakes his head. "Whatever, guys."

Out of three vans, the motley trio climbs into the second. Steve in the passenger seat, Brian behind the wheel, and Kendall in back with some of their bags. They had to pack, of course. A suitcase apiece so they would have room for the equipment in the trunk. Brian starts up the engine. Immediately, Steve reaches for the tuning button, but Brian slaps his hand away.

"No. You don't touch." He warns. Then he checks the rearview mirror and Kendall waves at him. His dorky grin makes another reappearance.

"Okay, Kenny," He says cheerily, "what would _you_ like to listen to?"

She feels honored that she's been asked. Buckling her seatbelt, she thinks through the possibilities. "How about-"

"Dude. That's not her name." Steve interrupts with a frown. "She's a girl, not a twelve year-old boy like you are."

Huh? Oh, the nickname! Actually, she likes it. Spender always calls her Kenny, so she didn't even notice when Brian used it. She sits up and pokes Steve in the shoulder before Brian can argue back, because she really, _really_ doesn't want to listen to that.

"Hey, it's alright. My friends call me Kenny." She assures Steve. "How about we listen to some. . .classics?" Everyone enjoys classic music, right?

"Classics it is." Brian hums.

But the temperature in the car has dropped about twenty degrees and Brian and Steve are effectively ignoring each other. So. . .maybe it would have been better if she _had_ chosen to ride with Jason and Grant. . .

Sighing, Kendall leans back and tilts her head, finding more interest in the ceiling of the van than the frostiness radiating from up front. She figured this job was going to be fun at least _some_ of the time!

"Um, I don't mean to be rude, but can you guys. . .lighten up a little bit?" She tries to phrase it as gently as she can. "Please?" Because you're being idiots.

Brian blinks at her in the mirror. "Shit. Yeah, sorry, Kendall. We're supposed to be letting you know about the case." He looks over at Steve, and Steve looks at him. They seem to share a moment of silent, tolerable understanding. Good.

"Well, it's an Inn just south of Des Moines," Steve starts. "Apparently the owners have lost nearly all of their business because of the activity that happens there. Their tenants are scared out of their damn minds."

Oh. Inns. "I have bad luck with Inns." Kendal slumps forward. "The last one I was staying at burned to the ground."

"What? Are you fucking serious?" Brian's eyes widen in the mirror. "How the hell did that happen?"

Kendall shrugs. "Faulty electricity, I think. At least I wasn't _actually_ inside when it caught fire."

Brian lets out a low whistle and Steven shakes his head disbelievingly. "Wow. That's pretty intense." Steve says. "Were they able to save it?"

"Nope," Kendall sighs. "Just the foundation was left. All stonework. The fire department was shocked at how fast it crumbled."

"Where was it?" Brian wants to know, eyes still wide, but more out of curiosity now. "I think I might have heard about it. Happened. . .what, a couple of years back? Like five or six, right?"

"Yeah! Five years ago this August. It was up in Maine." Kendall nods. "My friend's mom owned it."

Brian and Steve both make sympathetic noises. The mood in the car, Kendall is pleased to note, has softened considerably. It's pretty comfortable now.

"Oh, right." Steve clears his throat after a moment. "We're supposed to be talking about _our_ case. . ."


End file.
